116 Percent
by EatCrow
Summary: For a prompt on my Tumblr, submitted by mynameistakenhavethisinstead: Jasonette Prompt! Mari and Jason first meeting but it's after a bunch of thugs tried to jump her (she beat them up). Anyway they're both in civilian form and she's validly untrusting and he calms her down... Sometimes Jason wished he was better at minding his own business.-(Completed one-shot)


For a prompt on my Tumblr, submitted by mynameistakenhavethisinstead: Jasonette Prompt! Mari and Jason first meeting but it's after a bunch of thugs tried to jump her (she beat them up). Anyway they're both in civilian form and she's validly untrusting and he calms her down.

Bullies count as thugs, right?

**Edited as of 1-13-2020.**

I think I got most of the bugs out, hopefully.

* * *

Partly by accident, mostly by self-preservation, Jason figures out that, in order to get everyone to _stop_ looking at him like the poor-orphan-charity-case Bruce Wayne took in, he needs to, instead, get them to write him off entirely.

It's a genius plan. Gotham Academy is nothing if not judgemental. All he has to do is wear his uniform loose, his tie undone, tell everyone exactly how little he thinks of their petty power plays, and get into a screaming match with his xenophobic history teacher about how people working minimum wage, "_Absolutely should be making a living wage. Screw you, you bootlicking capitalist fuck!"_ within the first month of school. Honestly, he's surprised he lasted _this long_.

So maybe he's a little out of line, it's not like he's wrong. And it's all worth it just to see the look on Bruce's face when he walks into the principal's office. The man's eyebrows are practically up to his hairline by the time he hears that Jason, in the face of his teacher's warning, had the audacity to ask, "What are you going to do? Expel me? Unfucking likely."

"It's not like I'm actually going to be expelled," Jason says. "Half the school's annual budget comes from the money you donate. If I'm expelled, I'll have to go somewhere else. You're not going to invest in a school I'm not attending, and they're not going to lose those funds."

With unmasked glee, Jason watches the growing horror spread over his principles face—he's a smart brown-nosing man after all. He knows _exactly_ what kind of trap he's walking into. It doesn't matter that Jason's history teacher is glaring the man down, looking like he's just bitten a lemon. Nope, Jason is not going to be expelled.

"Jason," Bruce sighs. He's looking far more put out than he has any right to be.

They settle for him being suspended for the rest of the week, with detentions taking place after school on Mondays and Wednesdays for the next two months.

As all interesting gossip tends to, the rumor makes its way through the school before the day is even over—rich kids have _way too much_ time on their hands. By the time Jason comes back the following Monday, everyone seems to have decided that he's a troublemaker unhinged _just_ enough to be dangerous.

It marks the end of people trying to suck up to him. They all seem to have collectively decided that if they mind their own business, and leave him out of it, he'll do the same.

The thing about Jason Todd—fourteen-year-old high school freshman—is that he's…_really_ bad at minding his own business. Like Dick's Discowling suit levels of bad at it. He's a Robin after all. You couldn't be a Robin if you were actually able to keep your nose out of where it shouldn't be. It's _practically a rule_.

Never once in his life, has Jason ever had any fondness for bullies. It doesn't matter if they're school kids or criminals or one-percenters—_looking at you, Jeff Bezos, looking at you._ He's seen enough of them growing up in the Narrows, and maybe, it's because his dad, the utter asshole, had been a bully. Maybe he just spends too much time fighting against people who think they can get away with pushing their weight around. It doesn't matter.

Jason Todd can't bring himself to turn a blind eye. Which is why, by the beginning of his second semester, he's gained the title of actual-punk-you-know-the-kind-who-fight-the-man. With his biweekly detentions being upgraded to triweekly and extended indefinitely. The number of fights he's gotten into in the last couple of months has easily erased whatever Golden Boy standing Dick had established. Jason is confident that the only reason he's yet to be kicked out is the fact that Bruce has almost doubled his donations.

So really, when he hears raised voices, and the distinct sound of _someone_ being thrown against a wall, just as he's leaving detention for the third time this week, he _has_ to investigate.

Disgust is the first thing Jason registers when he turns the corner, because there's a ring of five students—two girls, three guys—all crowded around the new girl from France. Jason's pretty sure he shares a class or two with her, maybe. She's easy to miss, small as all hell and stick thin.

This, this isn't a fair fight. Or a fight she even has a _chance_ of winning. Jason has a bad feeling about this.

But—

But Jason takes a closer look. Her back is pressed against the side of the building, yes. Her bag has been thrown to the ground, and she's shaking, but that stance, it definitely doesn't belong to someone who doesn't know how to defend themselves. Sure, these idiots have her backed into a corner, one point them, but her feet are firmly planted on the ground, her back is straight. She's not going to run, at least, not before she throws a punch, and, judging from the way she's holding herself, a good one too.

Jason doesn't know how to approach this. This girl looks like a deer caught in headlights who will spook the second she hears a loud sound. Getting a teacher would be the most sensible thing to do. It would also require leaving, Jason isn't confident enough in the situation to do that.

He's almost talked himself into going. It might be a little off-brand for him, but this seems slightly out of his depth, when Idiot Number Three, the smirking brunette addition, makes a move toward Marinette—Jason only just remembers her name—and Marinette lashes out.

Dead silence overtakes the yard as the girl goes down, her body crumpling to the ground like a wet paper towel. Marinette's fist is still curled, her arm still outstretched. She looks like she can't believe what she just did. Everyone stands frozen, for one disbelieving moment, before one of the guy's snarls, lunging to grab Marinette's jacket.

If she was a deer in headlights before, Jason isn't sure what to call her now. She looks like she's on the cusp of a panic attack, frantically babbling a mishmash of jumbled up words. Jason sees what she's going to do a second before the bully does, but by then it's too late.

Marinette, with way more force than someone her size should have, brings her knee up, and kicks her would-be attacker in the balls. Jason does not want to feel sympathy pains. He doesn't, but still, if the way Idiot Number Five falls to his knees is any indication...well.

Idiots Numbered One, Two and Four run off without much fanfare, taking their downed Idiot Number Three with them. Jason has a distinct impression they're going to snitch, and Marinette, who was only defending herself, and is in no way capable of explaining her side of the story right now, is going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

Nope, not on Jason's watch. He makes his way over. Closing the distance in three precise non-threatening strides. "So I'm thinking, this isn't exactly what you had planned," he says lightly.

"Fuck you, Todd." Eloquent as ever Idiot Number Five.

"No thanks. You seem like you're having enough fun clutching your balls for the both of us," he says cooly, crouching down just enough to make eye contact. "Between you and me, I would run if I were you. Before she decides to come over and knock your teeth in."

"Like she would," the bully scoffs.

"We both know she could and you know I would let her. Hell, I would help her if it kept your mouth fucking shut." Jason cracks his knuckles, casually pressing his elbow further into the prick's collar bone. "Fuck, I kinda want to do it too. You really piss me off."

At least he has the good sense to take Jason seriously. Jason can't help the satisfaction that comes from watching him get to his feet and limp off. Some things really are poetic. It serves the bastard right, even if he promises that—"I'll get you back for this, Todd."

Jason snorts. As if he'd worry about what some schoolyard bully was going to do. Have you seen half the lunatics he fights on a monthly basis? "You good?"

"I—no!" Marinette cries, sinking to her knees in shock. "I am so going to be expelled. God, I'm going to be deported. I've only been in Gotham for a month! One whole month, and already I've messed this up. Momma is never going to let me out of the house. That's if they don't send me to jail. Oh God, they're going to send me to jail, aren't they? I can't go to jail, orange is a _terrible_ color!"

That's...a lot to unpack. Jason feels something flutter in his chest. He has the strongest desire to comfort her. So, he does the only thing he can think of; he reaches out, wraps his arms around her waist, and promptly gets punched in the face. _Hard_.

He staggers back, clutching his eye. Jason barely registers Marinette's steady stream of. "I'm sorry, so sorry I didn't mean to hit you."

Self-consciously, Jason shrugs, he's had far worse. The only thing in danger is his ego. "It was my fault. You were literally being threatened a minute ago. I shouldn't have touched you. Sorry about that."

"I'm panicking a bit," Marinette says, pulling at the end of one of her pigtails. "I'm not usually...I just—I don't want to be expelled."

"You're not going to be expelled, Hermione," Jason says dryly. "Yeah, those bastards are going to snitch, but you were just defending yourself. They got what they deserved."

"Do you think anyone's going to believe that?"

Jason takes a moment to look Marinette over. There is so much earnest hope on her face that Jason...he feels really bad, but—"Of course not. You kicked Patrick Thompson in the balls, his dad's on the school board. There is no fucking way _any_ of these teachers will believe that he actually got what was coming to him. No matter how much of a prick he is."

"I'm doomed," Marinette cries.

"You're not doomed." Jason catches Marinette's look of pure utter, disbelief and continues, "You're not going to be expelled because you're not the one who is going to be taking the fall for this."

"You can't be serious."

"Deadly," Jason says, scooting down to sit next to Marinette. He makes sure to leave a good foot between them. One black eye is enough, thank you. "Unlike you, I won't get expelled, trust me. This isn't anywhere close to my first fight. If they could have axed me, they would have a month in. The good news is that this is the one corner of the school security cameras can't see. So, as long as we make our story sound believable, no one is going to question it."

"I'm pretty sure they're all going to find it sketchy when no one can agree on who threw the first punch."

"See, you would think that, but no offense, you're a literal wafer cookie. A strong breeze could blow you over. No one is going to believe that you took down those idiots. Not when it's so much easier to blame the one who's admitting it."

"I did take them down," Marinette says, narrowing her eyes.

"And it was badass, but for this to work, we need to milk as many of their sexist assumptions as possible. So," Jason starts, pressing his hand a little further against his eye. There's a bit of blood slipping onto his fingers. Marinette got him good. "This is what we're going to say. We're going to keep it simple. Tell them that those guys were picking on you, and I came over to see what was happening. Things got heated. Thompson punched me in the eye, and I bumped into what's-her-face. You were panicking and didn't really pay attention until you saw me knee him in the balls. Short, sweet, and believable."

"What are we going to say when they ask about why everyone is blaming me and not you?"

"Well, why were they bothering you in the first place?" Jason shrugs, reaching out to grab some of the stray papers that had fallen from Marinette's bag. "Just use that. Trust me, Thomson's going to jump at the chance to save face. Once he changes his story, the rest will follow."

Marinette grimaces. "It feels wrong."

"Please." Jason snorts. "They're rich. They're cheating at life. They'd get away with murder if they dropped their wallets. You could tell them all _exactly_ what happened, word for word, and the teachers would still only hear their side of the story."

"That's awful."

"That's Gotham."

Marinette falters as if she wants to dispute the inherent corruption of this city. She stares at Jason, who would probably be blushing if it wasn't for the excruciating pain coming from his right eye.

"You're sure." Marinette bites her lip, nervously picking at her nails. "You're absolutely, _one hundred and twelve_ percent sure you won't be expelled."

"I'm one hundred and sixteen percent sure," Jason says, and then Marinette smiles.

It's a nice smile. Jason doesn't think he's ever experienced the full force of someone's relief before.

"Thank you." Sincerity is dripping off every word, so much so it almost aches. "I—you're really nice Jason."

Marinette knows his name. That's—not necessarily surprising given the fact that, yeah, they share classes, probably. It's just..this is the first time they've talked.

"It's cool," Jason says, leaning further back into the wall. He can hear people coming, it won't be long before they have teachers to deal with. Jason might as well get comfortable. "You're Marinette, right? I think we have English—Math...something together."

Marinette nods, scooting closer to him. "Yeah, I'm Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I sit three rows over in Math and two seats up in English."

"It's nice to meet you, Marinette. Officially." Jason takes his hand off of his eye and holds it out to her. "Jason Todd."

Slowly, Marinette's smile morphs into a look of pure horror. "_Your eye_!"

* * *

I have been having way too much fun filling these Tumblr prompts. Honestly, they've been my one saving grace this week in the hellscape known as retail. I've had so many hours, God I'm dying.

I have an opening shift tonight? This morning? Anyway, it's from 12 midnight to 9 am so...wish me luck.

As always feel free to come scream at me over on my Tumblr Eat0crow


End file.
